The musings of a kid colliding with middle age with the grace of an angry hippo, racing, on ice.

Doing it all the hard way...

Thursday, November 8, 2012

Baby it's cold outside

Perhaps I exaggerate ?

Only days ago I was waxing poetic trying to decide how to describe the fallen leaves. In bright sunlight the colors filled the spectrum from golden to rust. Under grey skies and a dark attitude the colors ranged from vomit to yesterday's Raisin Bran.

Tuesday's morning commute was greeted by forty six degrees (or 11C for my metric minded friends). My return that evening was into a gale. This morning the gauge said thirty five (3C) when I stepped out into the starry darkness.

As I rode I noted the frost on rooftops, then the unmistakable sound of a woman scraping a windshield. Cars warming up in driveways while drivers waited patiently.

A neck gaitor and the usual warm duds made my ride pleasant, albeit slow. Cyclocross isn't over, but the slow base miles of winter aren't far off either. Besides, even after the most stressful day at work, by the time I'm home and greeted warmly by Hottie and Tux I'm feeling pretty good.